


Dream SMP One-Shots

by Dax_A_Bit_Angsty



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft Youtubers, Tales From The SMP - Fandom, dream survival multiplayer
Genre: Character Death, Comfort No Hurt, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, M/M, Memory Loss, Minor OC inclusions, Multi, No Happy Ending Fest, No tears when the villain dies, Panic Attacks, Time Travel, emotional denial, except there is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29249973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dax_A_Bit_Angsty/pseuds/Dax_A_Bit_Angsty
Summary: Basically when I get bored, I write stuff for this fandom since I'm in too deep- There's angst, fluff, not really any ships, etc. I won't write anything explicit.
Relationships: Awesamdad - Relationship, Dream Team - Relationship, Karl Jacobs/Punz (unrequited?), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap/Quackity, Mother Puffy - Relationship, Sleepy Bois Inc. - Relationship, tommy & tubbo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	1. The sky was much too nice for the occasion

**Author's Note:**

> Dream escaped from prison.
> 
> He was taken down.  
> But he took someone else down with him...

The sky was much too nice for the occasion.

The cloud cover was thin in some places, allowing glitters of sunray to filter down from above. In places where the cloud broke, sunset turned the horizon to a gradient of pink to amber. It was a stark contrast to the mood.

The wind was a tad too cold, nipping right through the thin layers of clothing worn by the gathered crowd. A fog of grieving silence smothered the server. Even a pin drop could be heard in the soundless nation.

Too many conversations left unfinished, too many goodbyes left unsaid.

It was unfair. How did a child die so early? Why did two kids have to suffer so much, before either of them reached eighteen?

The creeper hybrid stood at the back. He hadn’t yet known the problem child too well, but he’d cared for the kid. He’d offered the young blonde a place to stay when things got hard. He’d been the first to visit the boy when he’d been exiled. Sam had even helped Tommy with the hotel, and had created an entire persona to give the problem kid some time to be an actual child.

He regretted being so neutral to the problems on the server beforehand. Perhaps if he had stepped in to help, had protected Tommy from the start, then maybe things wouldn’t have ever gotten to this level. Perhaps he’d still be alive. Perhaps Dream would’ve been better. And perhaps a certain young ex-president wouldn’t have been left to face the world without his other half.

The first cold droplet on his face snapped Sam from his stupour. The mourners had been gathered for hours, lost in painful memories and the echo of infectious laughter from a once-joyful, once- _ living _ , boy.

Slowly, the crowd began to disperse.

George, followed by Punz, was the first to leave, having another to mourn instead. Sapnap stayed awhile longer. Eret told Fundy he’d be waiting for him at home. Nihachu and Jack Manifold wandered off too. Then Ranboo, Techno, and Phil took up their exit next. Karl finally dragged Sapnap away, knowing that they had another grave to visit, and that staying any longer would just result in a cold. Hesitantly, eyes rimmed with red, Puffy followed. Glancing at each other, guilty and forlorn, Fundy and Quackity left the young former president by the gravestone.

Eventually, all that were left of the mourners was a creeper hybrid and a broken boy. The silence stretched on. He was unsure how much time passed, but at some point, Tubbo’s small sobs became distinguishable from the drizzle of the rain. Unable to stand it much longer, Sam tread up carefully behind the former President of L’Manburg.

Tentatively, he kneeled and pried the kid’s arms from around the gravestone, pulling him close. Accepting the comfort, Tubbo buried his face into Sam’s clothes, using him as a shield from the world as a heart wrenching cry escaped him.

Hot tears swam furiously down his cheeks, with the boy making no more attempts to stifle his misery. It was hard to tell whether Sam’s shirt was soaked more by tears or by rain. But he didn’t mind. He rubbed circles into Tubbo’s back, letting the kid cry himself dry - he had been strong for far too long.

What kind of world would give this child so much responsibility? Ex-president of a blown-up nation, and best friend to a dead boy, who unfairly fell down at the hands of a crazed puppeteer with a god complex… A mask-wearing sociopath who’d escaped from Sam’s own prison.

Eventually, Tubbo’s sobs quietened, growing softer as the rain grew heavier steadily. The pair still sat there in silence, soaked through with both tears and rain. Silent tears dripped down the creeper hybrid’s cheeks, but if anyone asked, he’d say it was just raindrops. With eyes puffy and nose red, the younger boy sniffled, finally pulling away from Sam’s comfort. They both stood shakily, the cold rain making Tubbo shiver.

“It’s about time we get out of the rain,” Sam smiled gently, “you can come stay with me if you don’t want to be alone.”

“Wait,” the young boy murmured tiredly, “there’s one more thing.”

Tubbo retrieved two round items. These two seemingly insignificant objects had started everything. Giving a hollow smile, he knelt, and placed the music discs tentatively against the grave.

He stood, stepping back slightly to regard the sight. A goodbye rested on his tongue, but he couldn’t quite utter the words. He wasn’t ready to let go just yet. He still held a sliver of hope. For what? A miracle? A ghost? He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for anymore.

Sam rested a tentative hand on the child’s shoulder, “Let’s go.”

Slowly, the young boy nodded. They both turned, and gently, the creeper hybrid led him home. The rain almost drowned out the sound of their footsteps, coming down harshly and stinging their exposed skin. The cold nipped straight through their clothes. Tubbo sneezed. Sam’s brow creased in concern, but the former president barely took notice.

They made it maybe ten blocks away before they heard it.

_ Dun, do do… Dun, do do… Dun, do do… _

The beginning of “Mellohi” cut straight through the rain.


	2. Yuki had never really handled loud noises all that well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features my S/O's OC Yuki (and mentions my OC Dareos). I wrote this for them on their birthday!

Yuki had never really handled loud noises all that well.

But of course that had slipped everyone’s minds. And it wasn’t like a certain raccoon had been made aware of it either.

“This way!” Tommy practically dragged the moth child up the hill, “C’mon, we’re gonna miss the start if you don’t hurry up!”

From the summit, Awesamdude spotted the two, and waved them over, “Where’s Tubbo?”

“I was meant to get Tubbo too?” Tommy blinks, then just scoffs, “I mean, I’m sure he’ll find his way over.”

The creeper hybrid rolled his eyes but smiled fondly, “He’d better, or I’m telling Sam Nook to give you extra tasks this week.”

Tommy squawked in protest but was cut off by Tubbo dropping in next to them with a trident, whining, “You forgot meeeee-”

“I didn’t forget, I just purposely left you behind.”

Yuki’s voice cut in - half timid, half wanting to challenge the loud blonde, “Actually, a minute ago, you said otherwise.”

“Kiddos, the fireworks are about to start.” Sam’s voice brought the three of them out of the beginnings of a playful argument, though the sentence itself sparked a flame of unease in Yuki. Fireworks weren’t exactly the quietest thing in the world.

They appreciated the sentiment, and the effort Dareos probably went to to make fireworks - in reality there probably wasn’t much effort, Dare was quite the thieving raccoon - but Yuki just wasn’t sure about this.

Nonetheless, they stayed quiet, not wanting to sour the occasion.

It felt like much longer, but could’ve only been half a minute before the show finally started.

The first rocket went up, and after some long painful seconds of anticipation, it finally exploded into a shower of colour. With it came a loud  _ BANG _ . They’d tried to prepare, but still Yuki flinched violently.   
_ BANG. _ __  
_ BANG, BANG. _ _  
_ __ BANG.

Sam was the first to notice anything wrong.

After the first several fireworks, the creeper hybrid looked down to the moth, shaking so violently it was a wonder they were still on their feet. He called their name at first, then realised it was useless - there was no chance of Yuki hearing him above the fireworks. As their eyes were shut tightly, there was only one option Sam could see.

The creeper hybrid reached out to them, tentatively resting a hand on their shoulder. This worsened the situation more than he’d anticipated. Immediately, the moth child recoiled away from him. They backed into an unfortunate Tubbo, who quickly startled and looked over.

Luckily, Tubbo understood quite quickly. He gestured down the other side of the hill and ran off, stumbling over his own feet in his rush.

This having caught Tommy’s attention, he reached out to poke Yuki, but Sam quickly grabbed his wrist, shaking his head. The blonde’s mouth formed a silent “oh” and he took several steps back to give the kid some space.

Tubbo returned quickly, an older boy in toe. Having had the situation explained to him, Wilbur didn’t hesitate to crouch down in front of Yuki. Sensing the person, they peeled their eyes open slightly, just enough to recognise the boy.

He made a tentative grabbing motion as a silent request for permission, and Yuki nodded ever so slightly in response. Gently, Wil reached out to them and led them back down the hill, away from the colourful yet noisy explosions.

Once the group had shut themselves back into the house, they set to work in calming Yuki down. Tubbo chose the movie, Tommy fetched blankets, Sam made hot chocolate, and Wilbur worked on breathing exercises.

“You’re doing great. I’m so proud of you. Just breathe, okay?” Wilbur’s voice was calm and steady, an anchor to keep Yuki from drowning.

In the background, Sam had put on a song while Tubbo searched through cabinets to pick out the best movie.

_//_ _It’s alright, it’s okay. It’s alright, it’s okay. //_

Yuki breathed in for 4 seconds.

_ // You’re not a demon, // _

They held the breath for 7 seconds. 

_ // There’s a reason you behaved in that way. // _

Finally, Yuki exhaled for 8 seconds.

_ // It’s alright, it’s okay. It’s alright, it’s okay. // _

Tommy returned with blankets, carefully draping one over Yuki’s shoulders and throwing himself down (gently) next to the moth child and his older brother.

_ // And I believe, yes I believe, // _

Tubbo skipped over, having put on the movie, and sat down next to Tommy, yanking off the loud blonde’s blanket for himself.Tommy squawked in protest, beginning a game of tug-of-war, eliciting a giggle from Yuki.

_ // That you will see a better day. // _

Sam walked in, handing each member a cup of cocoa.

_ // It’s alright. // _

Realising there wasn’t room for their adoptive dad, Tommy and Tubbo slipped down to the floor so Sam could chill on the couch.

_ // Oooh, it’s okay~ // _

Sam smiled gently to Yuki, one arm gently draped around their shoulder.

_ // Oooh, it’s alright~ // _

Tubbo and Tommy shared a blanket on the floor, chatting between themselves. Tommy’s laughter was loud and infectious, while Tubbo giggled himself silly.

_ // Ooo oooh~ // _

Wilbur ruffled Yuki’s hair protectively, making sure not to let any hot chocolate get spilled.

_ // And I believe, yes I believe, // _

With the music’s finishing notes, and the movie’s opening starting to play; with Yuki sitting in the middle, with Sam on one side, Wilbur on the other, and the two other kids sitting at the foot of the couch, all cradling steaming mugs of hot cocoa;

_ // That you will see a better day. // _

There was no place Yuki would rather be.

_ // It’s alright. // _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't know, the song is "It's Alright" by Mother Mother


	3. The rage made him sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a "Meanwhile. . ." to chapter one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream escaped from prison.
> 
> He was taken down.  
> But he took someone else down with him...

The rage made him sick. Almost physically. He choked down the bile, though it left the horrible burn of acid in his throat.

Only two people stood before the grave.  _ Two. _ The entire server had gathered for the other funeral, but only two people had shown for this one.

Punz stood at the back, waiting silently for his turn. Not that he’d have to wait long.

It seemed cruel to him. Punz understood the masked boy had made a few mistakes - alright, perhaps that was an understatement, he’d done horrible things - but in the end, he had still been a person.

It may have been a while ago, but at some point, he had laughed, he had smiled, he had protected his friends endlessly. Yet no one seemed to remember that time. Or at least, hardly anyone did.

The mercenary drifted his attention to the poor boy standing in front of the gravestone. He wore a blue shirt, with red and white on the front, and most noticeably, he wore goggles. He had once been one of Dream’s best friends.

Perhaps Dream had stopped caring about him at some point. But that didn’t change the fact that George still cared. Punz felt the same way. 

At the moment, George stood motionless, staring blankly at a gravestone.

_ Dream _ _  
_ _ 1999-2021 _

That was all. No “beloved son and friend”, no “he will be missed”,  _ nothing _ . No one had even left any flowers. Except one, probably from Puffy.

Dream had owned this entire server. He had helped everyone make this place a home. Eventually, he had even destroyed all his emotional attachment to maintain his control over it. It had been misguided, sure - the actions of a corrupted soul - but he had still sacrificed a lot for the server.

George himself was still quite obviously conflicted. Punz couldn’t blame him.

Quiet footfalls behind them drew Punz attention. The mercenary looked over, face stoney and cold, only to see a boy traipsing carelessly through muddy puddles and sporting a white bandana, followed closely by another boy wearing a multicoloured jumper, highlighted with purple and aqua.

Punz’s defensive exterior faltered slightly as he spotted them. So Sapnap had shown up after all, huh? His cheeks may be stained with tears, his eyes red and puffy, but still, in the end he had come.

Really, that was everyone who Punz had hoped for. It was a sad number of people. Only three, four including Karl. But still, it was nearly everyone who had truly mattered to Dream.

None of them wanted to say goodbye. It was unfair. There was still so much left to say. They’d never even been given a proper reason for Dream’s spiral off the edge. It had happened so quickly, yet so subtly that none had batted an eye to it.

Perhaps they could have done better for Dream.

But perhaps Dream should’ve asked for help.

As Punz noticed the fog around them becoming heavier, he scowled. Alright, he decided, he’ll be the one to say it.

“We did the best we could,” his voice was quiet yet stern, cutting clearly through the rain’s drizzle, “it’s not our fault he turned power-hungry and manipulative.   
“At one time, we may have been friends, but in the end, Dream became a prick. We all cared about him, I know. But it’s time we move on. He’s dead. He can’t laugh with us anymore, but he can’t hurt anyone again. It’s for the best.”

George practically growled, “For the best? FOR THE BEST?! He may have dethroned me, he may have screwed up in the past, but he was still my best friend!”

“He was mine too!” Sapnap shot back, his voice threatening to break, “But he fucked us over so much! How can you still say you care about him with so much conviction?!”

“Were you even his friend if you can’t promise to ignore his flaws?!”

“Did you seriously just--!”

“FUCKING STOP!” Karl snapped, causing all three heads to swing in his direction. After a moment, he collected his cool, “Just… stop.”

And so silence settled once again, aside from the steady downpour of rain.

Punz couldn’t help but wonder what would become of George and Sapnap’s friendship.

They seemed to have reached their lowest point.

The only way to go now seemed to be up.

Either that...

Or burn the bridges that remained.


	4. The next Karl Jacobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl’s time travelled too much. He’s lost sight of everything he once was, of everyone he was meant to remember.

He was tired. He was battered and bruised. All this time, he’d wanted to save everyone, prevent all the heartache and right the story’s wrongs. He wasn’t finished playing his part yet. Yet he couldn’t see how he could continue on from this point.

He could barely remember his own name. After taking on so many other identities through time, it felt foreign on his tongue.

_ Karl Jacobs _ .

The time traveller.

Only there to put the world on its course, then to disappear forever. But he hadn’t even fixed the world yet.

It couldn’t be time to go, could it?

Yet, with a depressing resignation, he knew it was.

It was almost unthinkable for him, but for The Inbetween, this wasn’t the first time Karl had reached his end.

After all, this wasn’t even the first Karl Jacobs.

It was a horrible cycle, neverending and filled with pain. Each Karl was doomed to travel until they lost their last life or faded to dust. Every time a Karl reached their end, they would choose to repeat the cycle; make way for the next Karl Jacobs to try.

It was stupid, really. None of them had learned their lesson from the Karl before them. There’s only so many times you can repeat a mistake before you learn to stop, right?

Wrong, according to the overblown saviour complex keeping the world trapped in a hellish loop.

And yet it continued.

Karl, his clothes bleached of colour and his memories dusted, stood at the edge of the portal. These days, The Inbetween followed him, lending him only enough strength to do one last thing; make way for the next Karl Jacobs.

“Karl, I swear to DreamXD,” a familiar voice growled, “you better not start the next loop!”

Someone on the edge of his memory reached out to him, their desperation expressed as rage. It wouldn’t do any good. Karl didn’t remember this person. He knew he should remember them, maybe even cry at seeing them again, but there was no use dwelling on that.

“Why shouldn’t I?” It was only a courtesy response. Karl wouldn’t be changing his mind, no matter what reasons were given.

“Every repeat just results in a worse ending!” As thin tears trailed down his cheeks, he bit his lip so hard it drew blood. “A worse ending for everyone, a worse ending for  _ you _ .”

“I just need to do it right next time.”

“That’s what every Karl says!” He stomped his foot, “And if you keep this up, there won’t be many more ‘next-time’s!”

The time traveller didn’t have a response for that. He just stared back stubbornly.

“Who are you doing this for, Karl?” The figure stared him in the eye, knowing the answer he’d get.

“The two people I care about most.”

“Say their names, Karl.” He got no reply, but the silence gave him his answer, “You don’t remember them, do you? Do you even remember what they look like?”

“The next Karl Jacobs will know.”

“And he’ll forget again,” he paused, raising his hands up exasperatedly, “and so will the next, and the next, and the next after him!”

“No,” the time traveller squared his jaw stubbornly, “I may have failed, but that just means… It’s up to the next Karl to right my wrongs.”

The old friend stared back at him silently, slowly lowering his hands to his sides.

“The cycle always continues, does it not?“

“Karl…”

“Please… Let everything be fixed this time,” Karl Jacobs smiled hollowly as he stepped back through the portal, desperation glinting off the tears in his eyes, “and let the next Karl be the last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for this concept was Geno from Aftertale - I liked the idea that there were multiple Sanses who Geno tried to convince a million times over, slightly changing something each time to attempt to find a different outcome. So I used that as a base for this, kinda inverting the concept a bit. Another inspiration for some of the lines at the end was the Ask Mercy Series (comic by Sai Shou on tumblr)


	5. A sudden THUD from another room startled Sapnap awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After one of the usual time travelling horrors, Karl finds himself not healed upon returning.
> 
> What happens when his lovers find his body..?

Karl stumbled, barely able to brace himself against the wall through the pain flaring up his leg. That jump hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but worse, for some reason he hadn’t been healed upon return.

The time traveller looked up from an arrow sprouting from his chest, frowning with uncertainty as he looked around the room. He saw double, the edge of his vision tinged with red. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. His hands were slick with blood - was it his own or someone else’s?

Karl spared a single fuzzy thought to hope someone was nearby, and then his hands slipped from the wall, and he slipped from consciousness.

. . . . .   
. . .   
.

A sudden  _ THUD _ from another room startled Sapnap awake. He sat up on the couch, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Quackity remained sleeping soundly in his lap.

“Hello?” The now-awake boy whisper-yelled to the rest of the house, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. The house was dark, the only light being the TV, playing quietly as background noise.

Carefully, he moved Quackity off his lap and stood up. His eyes scanned the room, and eventually landed on the darkened hallway to the left of the living room. The thud had come from there, he was sure of it.

Their shared bedroom was at the end of the hallway - Sapnap, Quackity and Karl would all sleep in there if they didn’t fall asleep on the couch for movie night. But Karl hadn’t been on the couch; he hadn’t even shown up for movie night, and his lovers had fallen asleep waiting for him.

Sapnap started down the unlit hall, steps quiet as he approached the end. Maybe it was just Karl? Karl had probably just come home, seen them asleep and decided to just go to bed too.

But then why hadn’t he joined his lovers asleep on the couch?

“Hello?” he called again, “Karl? Is that you?”

He slowly came to a stop as he finally reached the doorway. The door was ajar.

“Karl?” he waited a moment, but still received no response, “Hey, we’re not mad at you for missing movie night.”

Anxiously, he stepped forward and pushed the door open more, but it was too dark to see inside.

“Oi, could you cut the bit and just come out? I’m too tired for this.”

No response. No sign of movement.

His apprehension turning to irritation, Sapnap flung the door the rest of the way open and stomped inside. He’d only taken a couple steps before he stepped in something sticky.

A metallic scent filled his nose, in sync with the dread creeping into his stomach. He took half a step back, reaching blindly into the dark at his side to find the light switch.

“Karl, what the hell are you--?”

The words stuck in his throat as he took in the sight.

His lover was on the floor, one hand cradling the nock of an arrow protruding from his chest. Another stuck out from his leg, and a third went through his shoulder. Blood pooled from the motionless figure.

Reluctantly, Sapnap’s eyes were drawn to Karl’s face. His eyes were rolled up in their sockets, and blood dripped from some unseen head wound covered by his hair. Shaking, Sapnap drew closer, sinking to his knees by his lover’s side.

Silently, but shaking as violently as an earthquake, he carefully pulled the limp figure’s head into his lap. He sat in shock for a minute. Then his body racked with loud sobs, nowhere even close to matching how he felt as his world was hit with a horrible blow.

Desperate to let out even a small portion of his grief, he let loose a guttural scream.

Footsteps raided the hallway outside. It was only seconds until a boy with a dark blue sweater charged in.

“Sapnap-?”

The footsteps ceased instantly. Sapnap didn’t dare look up. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his dead lover’s face. But more than that; he’d rather die than look Quackity in the eyes. He could barely handle his own grief, seeing Quackity’s would surely shatter his soul even more.

Quackity collapsed next to him, wailing like the souls of the damned. He crawled over to the time traveller’s lifeless form, and gingerly ran his fingers through the boy’s hair, not even caring as his own hand became equally sticky with crimson.

He choked on his own misery, unable to draw in any breaths between overwhelming sobs.

Sapnap didn’t hesitate to pull Quackity to his side. Sapnap buried his face in his lover’s hair, and Quackity hid in Sapnap’s chest.

Neither forgot the presence of the dead boy in front of them. Hiding their faces, closing their eyes; it didn’t help. The sight of what was once their lover was burned into their vision.

They didn’t know if they’d ever be rid of the horrible image.

. . . . .   
. . .   
.   
. . .   
. . . . .

“That moment when insane server lag postpones the  _ /heal  _ by like ten minutes,” a timid voice somehow cut right through the sound of soul-shattering grief, “so anyway, how was movie night?”


	6. Punz’s plans for the day had been completely derailed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl Jacobs has traveled a bit too much.
> 
> And upon his disheveled return,  
> A mercenary stumbles across the Memory Boy 2.0

Punz’s plans for the day had been completely derailed.

He wouldn’t say he was particularly unhappy with who he stumbled across, but what he walked into wasn’t really what he was expecting for today.

“Just think for a second, will you?” He muttered, trying to stay patient, “Tell me your name.”

“I don’t remember.”

“For the love of DreamXD,” the mercenary ran a hand through his messy hair, “I’ve said it three times; your name is Karl.”

“It doesn’t sound right,” the boy continued to insist.

“Fine, we’ll skip that for now,” Punz finally sighed, “just tell me what happened.”

Punz raked his eyes up and down the whitewashed figure in front of him. His friend’s once colourful hoodie had somehow been bleached to white. Across his face, splashes of white dusted his cheeks like flour, erasing the pigment of his skin. Even his eyes were clouded over, glazed like a zombie’s.

If Punz hadn’t already met a ghost or two before, he would’ve claimed this was one.

“If I can’t recognise my own name, what makes you think I’d have any recollection of whatever you think is different?” The ghost raised an eyebrow, frustration building.

The mercenary raised his hands in surrender, “Alright alright, what  _ do _ you remember then?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and looked to the ground, seeming stuck.

“That’s kind of the problem,” the ghost wrung out his hands awkwardly, “I don’t really remember anything.”

Punz hummed in confusion, “You don’t remember anything?”

“Nope.”

“Do the names Quackity and Sapnap mean anything to you?”

His friend only stared at him blankly.

“Seriously?” The mercenary stared back in disbelief, “They’re your fiances!”

He folded his arms across his chest, part frustration and part anxiety, “Now you’re just screwing with me; I don’t remember ever being engaged to one person, let alone two.”

“No - you’ve got to be the person playing a joke on me,” Punz insisted, “you know me at least, don’t you?”

He shook his head.

“Karl, you can’t be serious.”

The ghost screwed his eyes shut, trying to force a single memory to the surface. Eventually he sighed, and shrugged helplessly, “I’m sorry, but I seriously don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Punz,” he muttered, then clicked his tongue, “and you’re absolutely sure you don’t know who Quackity and Sapnap are?”

“I’m sure. I think.”

“I really don’t want to be the one to tell them about this.” The mercenary sighed, “Let’s go find Ghostbur - you’re not dead but you look close enough. No offense.”

. . .

Punz looked over the page.

Any “memories” Karl had written down were completely scattered, and had close to no relation to anything the mercenary could recognise.

Slowly, he tried to pick apart the information.

_ -Egg _ _   
_ That one, at least, was obvious. He must be talking about the Eggpire.

_ -Masks _ _   
_ Maybe that’s for Dream? But then why is it plural?

That was about it for anything he could rationalise.

_ -“Straight to hell, buddy” _ _   
_ _ -Bandits _ _   
_ _ -Buried treasure _ _   
_ _ -Diaries _ _   
_ _ -Milk? _ _   
_ _ -Lonely scholar _

_ -”No one leaves here” _ _   
_ That one scared Punz a bit. What if that sentence tied into whatever happened to Karl.

Maybe that theory was wrong.

But whatever occurred,

It wasn’t good.

Not at all.


	7. Phil smiled without mirth, “I’ll be sure to make you a tombstone, at least.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long time ago,  
> A winged immortal met an enderman hybrid, who happened to be a time traveler.
> 
> Too bad he was forced to kill him.

He tried desperately to breathe.

He gulped, and gasped, and coughed through the blood.

The pain, the fear; the undeniable knowledge that he was dying; was worse than anything he’d ever felt so far in his travels.

There was only one calming presence amongst all the debris.

“Mate, I need you to calm down,” his wings folded around himself and the boy, as if trying to shield them both from the rest of the chaos.

“Philza! Please help me,” the boy gasped desperately, trying to reach out, “It hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts it--”

“Shhh,” he gently shushed his friend, “Mate, mate, you’re going to be okay.”

Strong arms reached down to the boy, hooking around his arms and gently trying to pull the boy out from the debris. A strangled cry escaped him as Phil tried to wrench him out.

The winged man grimaced, ceasing his attempt at once. “Shit mate, your legs are stuck,”

“Phil, Phil it hurts-” The boy’s eyes widened even further, “My book! Where’s my book?!”

“It- There are worse things to worry about right now, mate,” Regardless, Philza looked around, and eventually swiped the black book out of a pile of dust and crumbled concrete. The book was dusty, but somehow impervious to the damage that had ruined the town around them. “It’s right here.”

The dying boy’s hand rested on the book, gently tracing the outline of the golden crown on its cover, trying in vain to steady his breathing as he did so. His eyes slowly fluttered closed.

“Sorry mate, but you need to stay awake,” Phil snapped his fingers in the boy’s face, making him flinch and open his eyes, “I still need to get you out from under there.”

The boy looked up at him pleadingly.

“I’m going to try again, okay?”

He nodded silently, then winced against a split lip and a piercing headache.

Once again, Philza tried to pull the boy out from under the pile of wreckage. He felt the kid shift slightly, and hope tugged at his stomach. But that hope died as the entire pile shifted too.

It crumbled in on itself slightly, eliciting another ear splitting cry from the boy trapped underneath.

He tried to drag himself out of the wreckage, nails cracking as he clawed at the ground desperately. Phil wasted no time holding the boy’s arms down, preventing the panic from causing another shift in the debris.

“Ranboo; mate, just breathe,”

“It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts,” he mumbled, shaking violently against Phil’s hold, “Philza please, I can’t stand this, it hurts so bad-”

The winged man clenched his jaw, in no physical pain, but emotionally suffering as he watched his friend in this state. “We can still get you out of this; it’ll be okay.”

“Just make it stop...” the boy’s desperate sobs rang through his ears. “Please please please just kill me-”

Phil’s heart dropped.

It hurt, but he knew he had been lying to himself and to the boy; there was no way things would be okay for the kid. The red of his christmas-striped poncho was stained green with his own blood, and his legs must’ve been completely crushed under the concrete wreckage.

It would be a mercy to kill him.

“...Are you sure?”

“ _ Please… _ ”

Philza folded his wings behind his back, gripping the handle of an axe.

. . . . .   
. . .   
.

It was over in seconds. He didn’t struggle.

Phil wondered if the universe did this on purpose; was it trying to get him used to the loss of a friend? He was immortal, he knew he would go through this many times in his existence - he’d already gone through this a million times before. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to completely stop the hurt.

The winged man looked down at his friend. His pepper-shaded hair was matted with blood; his clothes were dusty and blood-soaked. But despite that, the golden outline of the crown on the book’s cover continued to glow, unaffected by the lime stains of the boy’s blood.

“Sorry mate,” Phil smiled without mirth, “I’ll be sure to make you a tombstone, at least.”

Some part of him knew this event will happen again someday. Perhaps in another time, in another nation, with another person. But it will happen again.

. . . . .   
. . .   
.

DO NOT READ

Note to self:   
don’t get trapped under debris again.   
hurts like a bitch to die that way

On another note   
i’ve found out someone who happens to be immortal   
i hurt him really badly i think

i don’t want to remember i don’t want to remember i don’t want to remember i don’t want to remember   
i don’t want to

But i have to   
because if i don’t remember then i have nothing left.   
even less than i had when i started


	8. Slipping his hood up, Punz strode forward. “It’s time for a speedrun.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first; an enderman hybrid, from the past.  
> The second; an interdimensional being, for the present.  
> And the final; a ¿human? mercenary, to pave the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Please keep in mind this is 100% just a theory I decided to develop. It most likely won't turn canon and it isn't meant to turn canon. I just want Punz angst and think that overall, he makes the most sense + has the most evidence lore-wise if there was going to be a third time traveler)

Karl stumbled forward, launching himself at the mercenary and tackling him down.

“Don’t you dare!” He snapped, “Punz, I swear to DreamXD, if you do this--”

“Karl, I’ve already made my decision!”

“Please,” Karl begged, “once you go through there’s no coming back!”

“I’ve weighed the risks,” the mercenary sighed, “and I say it’ll be worth it.”

“I can’t live with this on my conscience!”

Pushing him off as he sat up, Punz paused. He spent an eternity looking Karl up and down, cherishing the ability to stare at him while he had this precious time. Eventually, he simply put his hands on his friend’s shoulders.

“Jacobs, look,” he stared into his friend’s eyes, bestowing a horrible truth, “you aren’t going to remember this. We both know that.”

The boy recoiled, hurt, before remembering the choice at hand, “Punz--”

“It’s okay, really! Someone has to play the part,” Punz smiled, albeit a tad bitterly, “and it looks like you’ve reached the end of Act 2.   
“That means it’s time for me to enter - I can’t be late for the start of the final act.”

“You’ll start forgetting, Punz!” Karl raised his hands in exasperation, “Just like Ranboo; just like me.”

“Karl, let’s say I did decline this role,” he set his mouth in a line, “you can’t continue on. The moment you step foot outside of this library, you will have completely forgotten this entire conversation.   
“You won’t remember your name; you won’t remember what you’re meant to be doing, anyway. It’s better for you to just give up now; you’ve already pushed yourself further than Ranboo ever did as the first time traveler.”

“But I don’t want you to get hurt,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Punz.

The mercenary just laughed, “I’m the only time traveler so far without a saviour complex; I know when to quit.”

That was true, the mercenary could confirm that, at least. But what was left unsaid was that unlike the first two, he didn’t have anything to come back to; any _ one _ to come back to.

There was indeed one person he liked, but as he remembered staring across the town square; looking on as he studied the way Karl looked at his fiances; he knew the boy in the multicoloured jumper would never look at him that way.

He had friends, sure. He had the Eggpire. But he had no happy ending here.

He unwrapped Karl from around him, and for a moment, he just stared at his companion; remembering how he had fought Sapnap over him.

“Punz, something I didn’t tell you,” the boy bit his lip, “is that you’ll lose many loves to time; you’ll fall in love countless times, only to never see them again.”

Punz smiled, “I guess I’m already practicing then.”

“Huh?”

The mercenary pressed a light kiss to Karl’s cheek. He backed away slowly as his friend’s eyes widened.

“Sorry, I know I shouldn’t take advantage of this,” he scratched the back of his neck guiltily, “but I figured I might as well, since you won’t remember it anyway.”

“You--”

“It’s okay,” he gave a lopsided grin, “you should go be with your fiances; they’ll be worried about you. Oh, and write yourself a note while you still can.”

Karl only stood motionlessly, staring at Punz pleadingly. After seconds of silence however, Karl took a single step back. It seemed to break him out of his reverie, and he tread over to grab an empty diary.

The boy scribbled down as much as he could; careful to give only the necessary information on his life and leaving out anything about his time travel. He also left little notes about who to trust, as well as instructing his future self to use this book as a memory book.

The former time traveler trudged over to the library’s exit, before pausing, “You’re sure about this?”

“Yeah, I am. I’d love it if there was money involved, but oh well.” He gave a thin smile, “Guess I’ll have to find some cool catchphrase huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Karl tried to smile back, “Don’t go stealing ‘ _ It was never meant to be _ ’ or ‘ _ Don’t forget who you are _ ’, though!”

“We’ll see,” the ex-mercenary shrugged jokingly, “whatever works,”

Karl was silent for another second, “...Good luck Punz; you’re the last, no matter what ending we end up with at the curtain call.”

“Haha, yeah… No pressure.” The new-found time traveler muttered to himself.

And with that, the Memory Boy 2.0 wandered away; away from the library, away from his memories, and away from his successor.

Slowly, Punz turned towards the glowing portal, turning his back on everything he’s known.

Slipping his hood up, he strode forward.

“It’s time for a speedrun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give a round of applause for our lovely time travelers.  
> a.k.a our Memory Boys :)


	9. He waited until he forgot what he was waiting for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It wasn’t originally meant for you, Tommy, but--”
> 
> “Then who was it meant for?”
> 
> “It was meant for… someone who knows more than he should.”

He waited... And waited... And waited.

He waited until he forgot what he was waiting for.

Everything was dark. Well, not exactly - the wall of lava provided ample light to the room.

But the lack of proper light; the way his eyes were starved of any natural sunlight; it covered his vision in a haze.

Or perhaps that was just the fact he hadn’t slept. Or eaten. He hadn’t since he had found himself trapped in here.

The walls were dark, constructed of nothing but impenetrable obsidian.

The only way out was the sea of lava, which he had already tried and failed to escape through many a time before.

There wasn’t much in the room. It held a basin of stale water, a desk, a chest full of empty books, a “toilet”, and finally a single clock on the wall.

Watching the clock was his only passtime.

He couldn’t sleep, and he’d decided he’d rather die than deigning to use anything that had been left for him. He owed nothing to the man who owned the prison. He’d had everything taken from him - and for what? Just to leave him to rot?

Just to let his name never be remembered, despite everything he’d been through to get here?

But he didn’t have the energy to be mad.

He didn’t see a point anymore.

Aside from the bubbling of the lava, the  _ tick tock tick tock _ ing of the clock was the only sound he could hear echoing through his cell.

He couldn’t hear his breaths - was he even breathing anymore?

He couldn’t tell.

And he couldn’t tell if he was even still alive.

Maybe it was finally time to go to sleep.

He closed his eyes.

**.** **  
** **. . .** **  
** **. . . . .**

A sudden noise caused his eyes to shoot open.

An intruder stood in his cell, unannounced.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t come earlier,” the familiar figure scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “it took me awhile to figure out where you’d gone.”

The imprisoned boy’s eyes widened upon recognition. He tried to speak, but after so long without use, his voice was too raspy to be coherent.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to speak right now,” his old friend smiled at him, then dropped to a frown as he mumbled to himself, “what did he do to you in here..?”

The prisoner did nothing but look down, averting eye contact even as his enderman-hybrid friend was more adverse to it than he was.

Looking down at him sadly, the enderman hybrid held out a hand, “How about we get out of here?”

He hesitated for a second.

He couldn’t remember his friend’s name. He couldn’t remember his own. And he couldn’t remember life outside of this horrid cell.

The faces of his past were blurred.

But one thing he did know was that there were people waiting for him at home.

The prisoner looked up at the enderman hybrid, and after a moment more, he reached out and took his friend’s hand in his own, shuddering at the physical touch after so long.

**.** **  
** **. . .** **  
** **. . . . .**

He didn’t know if it was the teleport that made him feel sick, or if he had just ended up with the sickness as his norm without realising.

As soon as his bare feet found ground once again, his legs buckled beneath him and he retched violently on his hands and knees, his eyes screwed shut in pain. He hadn’t eaten for so long, however, that there was nothing to throw up.

Crouching beside him, the enderman hybrid grimaced, keeping a hand on the ex-prisoner’s shoulder as a hopefully comforting gesture.

Eventually, the boy sat back on his hands, gasping in the fresh air with a desperation he didn’t know he had.

As his breathing became more steady, he worked up to finally opening his eyes.

Slowly, he peeled his eyelids open.

Light. Colour. Vivid clarity. They assaulted his eyes.

Instantly, he hissed and slapped his palms over his face, covering his eyes, “Too bright!”

“It’s...actually early in the morning; the sun hasn’t even risen properly yet,” his enderman companion scratched the back of his neck, “but I can see how it seems so bright after being stuck in that dark cell.”

A half-comfortable half-awkward silence settled between the two of them, the chirping of birds and chill of the wind reminding them of the world around them.

“I have a question, actually,” Ranboo swept his eyes up and down the ex-prisoner, taking a good look at him for the first time since the dark cell, “how’d your jacket get bleached to white, Karl? And how much do you even remember?”


	10. He didn’t want to be the Hope left in Pandora’s Vault after the darkest evils had escaped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :crab: :crab: TOMMY'S GONE, CRAB RAVE :crab: :crab:
> 
> Except I can't cope with that so Karl fixes it instead

The boy took in a shuddering breath as he found himself backed into a corner.

He tried to block it out.

He tried to ignore as Dream came ever closer to him, tried to block out the manic accusations of the mad puppeteer who found himself losing control.

He felt his HP drop; felt as the control was once again handed to this bastard; felt that he couldn’t beat Dream this time.

And he was scared.

He was so fucking scared.

He felt tears drip down his cheeks, and as a last ditch effort, he called for help.

He screamed. And cried. And begged.

He wished for someone to save him.

He didn’t want to be the Hope left in Pandora’s Vault after the darkest evils had escaped.

He didn’t want to stoop this low. He didn’t want to plead for Dream to stop. He wasn’t going to.

He almost did.

As he felt his one heart drop to half, he screwed his eyes shut; a desperate plea for Dream’s mercy on his tongue.

But it never came.

Instead, a green and purple spiral was imprinted behind his eyelids, and a wave seemed to crash through the cell.

Strong, safe arms wrapped around the boy, and a painful  _ THUD  _ was heard as the green bastard was flung against the walls of his own prison.

Tommy looked down, perplexed, yet he couldn’t see the arms that had screamed safety.

Instead, “Hello,” a familiar voice from in front of him chased the air from his lungs, “have you missed me?”

“Ghost..bur..?”

“Not exactly, Tommy.” A gentle smile greeted the frightened boy.

Several more seconds passed, Tommy staring in disbelief at the figure in front of him.

And then the reverie was broken.

“I said I’d see you again soon, didn’t I?”

Tommy felt a sob claw up his throat, and he stumbled forward, into the open arms awaiting him.

He didn’t care how his brother was here. He didn’t care how Dream was unmoving on the ground. He didn’t even care that he was still stuck in the cell.

Wilbur - Alivebur - was  _ right here _ . His strong arms were pure safety, the butterscotch yellow of his sweater was comforting, and his dark eyes held the emotion of the sea; calm and tranquil, yet had the undertone of anger; unadulterated rage barely contained behind the gentle expression he gave to his little brother.

Wilbur gave consolation to Tommy. But he was  _ pissed _ . He was furious at the man who had hurt his brother. He was furious at whoever dared to leave a child locked in a room with his abuser. He was furious at it all.

And he was ready to fuck shit up.


	11. He connected eyes with the abuser he’d been so cocky to just seconds ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and Tommy get into an argument in prison...
> 
> The abuser has won.
> 
> Except what happens after isn't what you'd think.

He collapsed back, pushed down by the sheer force of the blows.

He tried to look up, and for a second, he connected eyes with the abuser he’d been so cocky to just seconds ago.

Sheer madness danced in the man’s eyes; he knew he’d won.

Dream knew Tommy couldn’t beat him.

A striking pain swiped across his face, catching his eye, and causing the boy to cry out.

What kind of world would let a kid meet his end like this?

It was dark. It was cramped. His claustrophobia made it a living hell.

Death was gruesome. Death was slow. Death was  _ bloody _ .

He cried out, begging for it to end; for either the assault to stop or for the sweet release of sleep to consume him; and he didn’t care which one.

Another blow came. And another.

As he curled up in the corner of the cramped room, begging for his life, he heard the manic laughter of his abuser.

He knew his pleas were futile.

He barely felt the pain anymore.

Slowly, it all faded to black…

**.** **  
** **. . .** **  
** **. . . . .**

“And cut!” A voice split the silence, “That was great, thanks boys.”

Tommy slipped his eyes back open. The assault had stopped.

The masked man in a prison jumpsuit had stepped back, arms crossed with a slightly troubled smile resting on his face.

Tommy practically read his thoughts.

“Pft, you know I could’ve beat you in a real fist fight, Big D.” The boy, still on the ground, gave a cocky comment, head held high. It seemed to snap the “prisoner” out of his thoughts.

“Yeah yeah, totally,” he quirked an eyebrow, drawing out the ‘o’ in ‘totally’ to convey his sarcasm, “whatever you say,  _ Tomathy _ .”

Tommy squawked at the remark, “Shut up, homeless teletubby!”

The boy relaxed for a second in the quiet, closing his eyes slightly. He heard the fall of footsteps as a helpful figure skipped over with two cans of refreshments.

“I brought you two drinks for your hard work today!”

“Thanks Bad,” he heard the light chuckle of his companion as the half-demon half-angel stood patiently with the drinks.

When Tommy opened his eyes, the “prisoner” held out a hand to him, a friendly smile gracing his features; chasing away all evidence of the mania from seconds ago.

Tommy smirked back, taking his friend’s hand in his own and allowing himself to be pulled to a standing position, “You think I can come back as a ghost and haunt the crap out of you?”

Bad’s squawk of “Language!” was greeted by laughter from the two. The drinks exchanged hands and Tommy struggled to open his can as the half-demon half-angel skipped away again.

Snorting, Dream reached out and pulled the tab of Tommy’s can open for the boy, who muttered a small “thanks” of gratitude.

“Well, as the director I say sure,” the masked man took a sip between his sentences, “but you’ll have to ask Wilbur; he’s the main writer for the script.”

“Wilbyyyy!” The boy instantly turned to go run to his older brother, but before he could run off, Dream snatched his arm, keeping him back, “What do you want, bitch boy?”

“You should go check on Tubbo first,” the jail boy let go of Tommy’s arm, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly instead, “that scene was probably really rough to watch.”

The boy’s expression softened, thinking of his best friend, “Yeah okay, I’ll see you later, Dre.”

Without a glance back, the boy in his signature red and white shirt sprinted off to go find his Tubbo.

. . . . .   
. . .   
.

He found the bee-loving boy in the foyer of the prison. Most of the behind-the-scenes people were chilling there while preparing for the next scene; Sam having to break the news to Tubbo, Ranboo, and Jack.

“Hey, big man,” At the sound of his best friend’s voice, Tubbo looked up.

“Tommy!” He launched himself full-force at the boy, tackling him in a bone-crushing hug.

The boy reciprocated the hug, wrapping his arms around his Tubbo, relieved to be out of that cramped cell. His claustrophobia wasn’t completely acting, even though it was also written in the script; he’d just lied to Wilbur and Dream about how bad it was in reality.

“You’re really clingy, you know that?” Tommy smiled down at his best friend, “Love you, big man.”

“Love you too, Tommy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /PLATONIC
> 
> (Do not ship the minors.)


	12. “Wilbur, welcome back, my old friend!” The masked man opened his arms for a hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After experimenting with Tommy countless times,  
> Dream finally decides to bring back an old friend -  
> expecting aid in escaping the prison.
> 
> But things don't go quite as he planned...

One moment, he was in the void, forcing Schlatt to play competitive solitaire with him. The next, he was in a completely different place. But that wasn’t all.

He  _ felt _ . He could  _ feel _ the heat of lava. He could  _ feel _ as his body ached, not used to the strain of using proper muscles anymore. And he  _ heard _ . He could  _ hear  _ breathing. His own, plus two others’. His breathing was calm. One other’s was slightly irregular, and the third’s was bordering on hyperventilation.

Where the fuck was he? Wait… He couldn’t be…

He opened his eyes. He noticed the wall of lava. He noticed the obsidian walls embedded with crying obsidian. He noticed the manic man in front of him, and he noticed the boy curled up in the corner, shaking violently.

Instead of caring to pick out their faces and names from his shattered memories, he looked down at his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers with intense interest.

The man in front of him cleared his throat.

It took him a second to recognise the masked man, who stood in front of him with a crazed smile; Dream.

He dropped his attention to his hand again, but kept his ears open.

“So Wilbur, welcome back, my old friend!” The masked man raised his arms as if opening them for a hug, “I’m sure you were told about the resurrection book in my possession, yeah?   
“Well, you see, you owe me a bit of a debt now. And I already have a plan for how to make it even!” Dream smiled, holding out a hand to the newly-resurrected man, “Why don’t we team up again?”

That got Wilbur’s attention.

“What was that, Dream?” He mumbled, unsure his ears were working correctly.

“I said,” the man chuckled, “what do you think about working together again?”

Wilbur looked up again, and simply blinked at the man, the offer not yet registering in his mind. And then he laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He doubled over with laughter, gasping for air before another fit of laughter escaped him.

. . . . .   
. . .   
.

Tommy remembered what his brother was like.

He remembered what he was like right before he blew up everything Tommy cared about. He remembered what he was like when Dream had fully killed Tommy the first time and he’d seen Wilbur in the afterlife. The things he’d said; Tommy remembered how Wilbur had scared him so bad.

And he wasn’t any less scared right now.

His brother was right here. He had abandoned his Pogtopia skin, instead adorning a simple checkered shirt with a smart black jacket and grey shoes. It wasn’t an outcast’s outfit, but it also wasn’t Ghostbur’s yellow sweater.

For a second, huddling in the corner of the cell, he had dared to hope Wilbur was a different person to the maniac he had met in the void. But then he had laughed. The manic cackling echoed throughout the cell, and it chased all hope from his soul.

Wilbur was laughing at Tommy. He was mocking the boy; everything would be taken from him again, he had thought he was free but he was nothing more than a caged bird.

The sheet had been over his cage, and then it had been ripped off. For a fleeting second, light flooded his eyes and he’d thought he was free. But the bars were still in place, preventing any true freedom.

.   
. . .   
. . . . .

He couldn’t stop laughing.

The masked man really was delusional!

Wilbur laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more.

Eventually, his manic laughter was reduced to quiet chuckling. He was silent for a bit, breathing in deeply to even out his breaths. He stood up straight again, sighing as he wiped away tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Dream,” the masked man was slightly taken aback by the outburst, but hummed in question to acknowledge Wilbur, “you’re the stupidest person I know. And that’s saying a lot, considering Tommy is my brother.”

The masked man blinked. He wasn’t expecting this.

He was expecting a terrorist, someone who’d jump at the chance to cause more destruction; someone who would instantly be pushing into plans for revenge.

He wasn’t expecting to be insulted, and he certainly wasn’t expecting to be laughed at. Laughed  _ with _ ? Yeah probably. But laughed  _ at _ ? Not really what he thought was going to happen.

“ _ You _ ,” Wilbur’s stark change of attitude was off-putting - one second laughing, the next he spat out so much venom it made your skin crawl, “you killed my little brother.  _ You _ put him through hell.   
“I’m not saying I’m blameless here, but at least I didn’t  _ beat a child to death _ .” He raised his voice, snapping mercilessly at the masked man as he drew closer, getting in his face, “You aren’t even the villain, you’re satan himself. Like hell I’m going to help you!”

He stepped away from his old “friend”, and his eyes focused on the boy still curled up in the corner. He lumbered over to the small figure, stopping just in front of him.

The kid’s eyes focused on Wilbur for just a second, before widening and being shut tightly.

His little brother was scared of him. He couldn’t blame Tommy for it though, he’d said and done a lot of things that probably couldn’t be forgiven. Especially in the afterlife; he still remembered what he said, even though it was only the worst parts of him that were present.

But now he had Ghostbur’s memories too. He was reminded of the good things; the things he still had waiting at home. The people who mourned for and missed him. He remembered the bad too, but there was no use being human if there weren’t both good and bad moments.

And now it was time to start making up for everything he’d done.

Wilbur crouched in front of his brother. He spoke gently, like he used to do, before they ever left home and started the drug van, “Hey, Toms…” He got no response. “It’s me - Wilby, remember?”

After a few seconds more of stillness, the boy looked up hesitantly, “ _ Wilby..? _ ”

“Yeah, Toms… It’s me.” the older boy smiled, gently placing a hand on the younger’s knee, “See? I’m right here, it’s okay now. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

The boy didn’t move at first, but slowly he uncurled from the fetal position. Wilbur opened his arms, and it took less than a second for his little brother to fall into him. He enveloped the younger in his arms, wrapping him up safely away from the world. “Shhh, it’s okay, Toms.”

He let the boy cry. He was determined to let this kid rest from now on.

Tommy had been through it all.

He’d been betrayed more times than countable. He’d lost his home a million times over. He’d lost all of his lives. Even worse, he’d been beaten to death by his abuser, only to be brought back. He became a simple  _ experiment _ to a crazed homeless guy with a god complex.

Wilbur wasn’t about to let that stand anymore.

It felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes until Tommy’s sobs died down. Eventually Wilbur stood, holding the boy with one arm while turning to face the masked man he’d been ignoring.

“Dream.” The masked man gulped, looking over, “Let me tell you something; I don’t owe you shit.   
“It’s about time you get to take Tommy’s place. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find that book soon. Until then, enjoy competitive solitaire.”

Dream’s eyes widened, “Wait, you wouldn’t--”

. . . . .   
. . .   
.

A sudden hush fell over the server. Eyes widened as everyone read the message that popped up in chat.

**_> Dream was slain by Wilbur._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voidbur and Ghostbur split versions containing only bad and good memories respectively?? Resurrected Wilbur having both and being like he used to, pog??


End file.
